


Warm Me

by Gautiers



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angst, Character Study, Established Relationship, F/M, Post-Canon, Post-War, Regret
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-09
Updated: 2019-12-09
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:55:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21727879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gautiers/pseuds/Gautiers
Summary: When it rains, Sylvain remembers things he wish he wouldn't.A small character study for my favorite lover boy.
Relationships: Sylvain Jose Gautier/My Unit | Byleth
Comments: 2
Kudos: 110





	Warm Me

**Author's Note:**

> not beta-read, just a little something i think about when i think about sylvain and his brother and all the insane politics he's had to deal with his entire life.

Sylvain stands on the balcony of his bedroom, watching as grey clouds swirl overhead. The scent of rain carries heavily on the dawn wind in the northern territory of Gautier, along with unbidden memories stirred by a wave of nostalgia.

The 31st of Verdant Rain Moon. It is a day Sylvain will remember for the rest of his life. He does not feel sad -- merely...regretful. 

Bitter. 

Empty. 

That night had stormed in torrents, causing rivers to flood and lakes to rise. He’d returned to the monastery in a daze, as if a puppet on strings, his mind empty save for the sole image of his brother, Miklan, dead. Miklan, who’d disowned Sylvain of the title of “brother,” was killed by his own blood after turning into a demonic beast. If there was one moment Sylvain remembered with utmost clarity, it was the exact moment his brother breathed his final breath, and the fading look of hatred in his eyes. 

_ I’m sorry you couldn’t have lived a better life, _ Sylvain thinks as drops of water begin to kiss his skin. Because of his crest, his brother was neglected by their family, seen unsuitable to be the heir to the Gautier name despite his charisma and skills in both combat and leadership. By all means, Miklan should have been first to the inheritance. At least, Sylvain would have had a brother who truly cared for him. Instead, Miklan was dead, and he wasn’t. 

The Goddess was never fair, was she? 

The rain falls faster now, drenching the land as far as the eyes can see and staining the earth a darker hue. Sylvain welcomes it, letting the cold seep further into his bones and praying it numbs the emotions swirling in his soul. If he stands there long enough, can he slough off into the dirt? Can he be rid of this disjointed feeling that only drags him deeper into the darkness? Can memories of his brother and all that could have been disappear? 

“Sylvain!”

A familiar voice calls, soft and worried. Byleth stands before him, brows furrowed and drops of rain trailing down her skin as she gazes up into his eyes. Her hands are warm as they cradle his cheeks. “Sylvain, you’re freezing,” she breathes, and a plume of steam swirls wistfully from between her lips. “Why are you outside?”

He has no response, feeling absent in his own skin.

Byleth drags him inside through the balcony doors. “Wait here.”

Sylvain watches as she moves quickly to the bathroom and returns with towels. Her hands are quick and nimble as she dries him, the warm cloth almost welcoming to his numb flesh. “We need to get you out of these clothes,” she mumbles, unbuttoning his shirt and peeling the soaked cloth away. His pants follow suit, and soon, he’s dressed again in dry clothes. 

His wife tries again to reach him. “Sylvain? Would you like to talk?” 

Her eyes are an endless pool -- as clear as glass, as piercing as a blade. It feels as though she can see right through to his innermost thoughts, to the parts of him he so desperately wishes hides. No one has to know about the dark thoughts he harbors, the ones he wants to forget.

Seemingly moving in slow motion, he moves towards Byleth, arms wrapping around her small frame while burying his face against her neck. “Warm me,” he whispers hoarsely. 

+++

His voice is weak as he makes his request, and Byleth can feel his anguish. Her sweet, loving, and devoted husband knows pain and hides it well, even from her. 

Taking his hand, she leads him back to bed and settles herself on his lap. She urges him to look at her, gently cupping his face and stroking his cold skin. In the low light of the early morning, she can barely make out his pupils, but his eyes are vacant. 

“Beloved,” she breathes, kissing his brow, his cheek, his lips, anywhere she could reach. “I’m here for you, no matter how dark it becomes or how depraved you feel.” This is the truth, an oath based on her vows to him when they stood in the cathedral and pledged their love before the Goddess. She’d never let him walk alone.

Byleth continues to shower him with love as he returns her kisses, his hands gradually warming between the two of them. Running adoring fingers through his hair, she presses herself flush against his body, as if she can shield him from his haunting demons. Sylvain responds in turn to her affection, and Byleth can feel him returning to his normal self.

Calloused, roaming hands brush against her bare skin, sending a pleasant shiver down her spine -- her thighs, her back, her neck, her cheek. He no longer feels cold; in fact, he burns beneath her as his touches become more fervent, aggressive. 

“Byleth,” he murmurs between kisses, “I love you.” 

They reverse positions, and Sylvain takes the opportunity to press her into the mattress. With one last, lingering kiss, he pulls back and gives her a small smile. “I’m sorry.”

Byleth shakes her head, her fingers skimming his jawline affectionately. “Don’t be sorry. I wish there was more I can do for you, beloved.”

“You being here for me is enough. That’s all I could -- well, there’s one thing, if you wouldn’t mind?”

Her eyes brighten at the request. “Anything.”

Sylvain lays his head against her bosom and nestles in with a sigh sounding somewhat of relief. “Let me lie here for a while.”

The request is innocent, nothing that Byleth had anticipated what with how forceful his kisses were, but she willingly consents and kisses the crown of his head. “We can lie here for as long as you want, beloved.”

Minutes later, his breaths are slower and deeper, and Byleth follows him into the land of dreams soon after.


End file.
